


Bedtime Stories

by arda_ancalima



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Family, Gen, References to The Chronicles of Narnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6833488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arda_ancalima/pseuds/arda_ancalima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Joan’s earliest and best memories was her dad reading to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime Stories

**Author's Note:**

> References to 1x4 Home and spoilers for 2x4 Neverland - written with no knowledge of series 3 (sorry if there are any inconsistencies!). Thank you friends who helped me with this!

One of Joan’s earliest and best memories was her dad reading to her.

When Joan was little, her dad would come into her room and settle her under the covers while he sat on the edge of the bed for a story. Sometimes it would be a new story he found somewhere. Sometimes it would be an old favorite she begged for again and again despite her dad’s half-hearted protests at the repetition.

Once Sam was big enough for both children to want their father’s attention at once, they moved story time to the living room. Daddy would get in his armchair with one child on either knee, holding the book between them so they could follow along while his deep, soothing voice filled the room. Mummy would often sit off to the side, watching with a contented smile.

Many times, Sam fell asleep before the end of the story and a drowsy Joan would insist that she never did. Sometimes Daddy dozed off first, so Mummy would quietly sneak two reluctant children off to bed. Daddy had a long day, she said.

Of course, it wasn’t always peaceful, especially when Joan and Sam did not want to go to bed after one story, or, as was often the case, they could not agree on a book to read. When their bickering went on too long, Daddy would take over and say he was picking the story. Sometimes he would make one up. He would never give in and tell them about policemen and chasing bad guys, but usually about a princess and prince, coincidentally named Joan and Samuel, and castles, and dragons, or whatever they was particularly interested in that month.

Sometimes Daddy didn’t come home until after Joan and Sam had to go to bed. But he would always come in to check on them later, and if Joan woke up, she would ask if he could read her a story then. He would smile, kiss her forehead, and tell her to go back to sleep. He’d be home at a decent time soon.

Eventually, they found a book that could keep both children, and their parents, completely captivated: _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_. It filled many dinner table discussions and inspired games for Joan and Sam. Susan was Joan’s favorite, and Sam liked Edmund. They decided little Mary from down the street was their Lucy. Sergeant Carter, Dad’s bagman, could be Peter; they told him so when he came to get Dad one morning, getting a confused look from him and a chuckle from Dad. Sam suggested Dad could be the professor, but Joan thought he was more like Aslan. Mum would have to be Mrs. Beaver, since she couldn’t be the White Witch or Mrs. Macready. They asked Dad if he knew someone like Maugrim, the chief of the White Witch’s secret police, but he said there weren’t any wolves on the force as far as he was aware. Mr. Tumnes took quite a while, but Sam thought of the man they would see at the shop that always carried an umbrella and walked funny. Mum said they couldn’t tell him.

One night, Dad came home with a copy of _Prince Caspian_ , to everyone’s delight. It was wonderful to hear him saying the familiar names of favorite characters again. Both children were charmed with Reepicheep, declaring he was the best character after their personal favorites.

As they got further in the book, there were more and more days that they could not read because Dad would come late or exhausted, telling Joan he’d love to continue darling, but maybe tomorrow. Sam asked if they could reread _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ in the meantime, so sometimes Joan and Mum would take turns reading a bit after dinner. In those days, it was the one thing that seemed to put Mum at ease for a while.

Before long, reading time with Dad went on an indefinite hiatus. He told them that work was going to be busy for a while. Most days he came home and just slumped onto a dining room chair, fingering his pipe and staring into space. Mum kept busy during the day, meaning she was worried. Joan was old enough to know something was wrong.

One night, Dad didn’t come home. After an hour of the three waiting quietly in the living room, Mum tucked Joan and Sam into bed with the promise that she would say goodnight to Dad for them.

While he was home the next morning, both parents had a weariness about them that spoke of a long, grim night. Dad was silent at breakfast and was off right after. It was Sunday, so if he wasn’t on a case, Joan didn’t know where he went. After breakfast, Mum called Sam and Joan into the living room and they sat on the sofa, one on either side of her, just as they had the night before. “I have something very sad to tell you.”

Sam asked what it was. Mum took a deep breath. “Sergeant Carter died last night.”

There were many hugs and tears that day, along with questions of “why?” that Mum could not fully answer. Dad was home that night but no one brought up reading.

Tense days followed. One night, a few hours after going to bed, Joan heard her name whispered in the dark. She opened sleepy eyes to find her little brother Sam shaking her awake. He said he went downstairs for a drink of water and heard their parents talking about going away and did she know what they were talking about. This caught Joan’s attention. Although she sent Sam back to his own room, she as the older sister and chief investigator would have to find out.

Joan crept down the stairs without a sound, a skill she rather prided herself on, and inched along the shadowy hall to the open door of the dining room, where she heard the muffled voices of her parents.

“—and now it’s personal,” her dad said.

“You’re right, Fred. And your transfer was approved?”

“Yes, they’ll take me as soon as we can settle in. We’ll have to go in the next couple of days. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

A sigh.

“I hate to do this to you Win, uproot your life, and the kids from their school, and move us all to Oxford—”

“Oxford?” Joan cried, stepping into the light of the doorway. “We’re moving to Oxford? We can’t leave London, we can’t!”

Bursting into tears, she ran back upstairs, not stopping when she heard her dad call her name behind her.

A few minutes later, Joan heard her mum enter her room to find her curled up in the middle of her bed, sniffling. Mum sat down on the bed and started to rub Joan’s arm, murmuring comforting words until she fell asleep.

The next morning, the family lingered around the breakfast table for Dad to make the official announcement of their move at the end of the week. Joan listened with subdued anger and growing resignation while Sam seemed confused but curious. Once Dad finished speaking, Joan silently went up to her room.

She glanced out the window before turning away, not wanting to think about how many more times she may look out on that street. Instead, she paced about the room thinking of everything and nothing. After a while, there was a soft knock as her dad entered.

“Joan?” he said as he sat on the edge of her bed. “Come and sit.”

Joan complied stiffly and her dad put his arm around her shoulder.

“Sweetheart, I know you don’t want to go to Oxford, but Mum and I are doing what’s best for all of us.”

Shrugging, Joan made a noncommittal sound.

“There’s always going to be change in life. Sometimes you have to try something new, get away from your old life and make it better.”

“I like it here.”

Dad smiled. “I know you do, and so do I. There are a lot of great things about London, aren’t there? But I’m sure we’ll find lots of great things about Oxford, too.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to go and find out, won’t we?” Her dad turned to face her. “Now Joan, I need you to listen to me. I have to get things sorted out at work and your mum is going to have a lot to do to get ready. I know you’re sad and don’t want to go, but I need you to be strong. Help Mum as much as you can. Keep an eye on Sam and stay indoors, both of you. Can you do that?”

Joan slowly nodded.

“That’s my big girl,” he said as he pulled her into a hug.

From then on Joan tried to be more accepting of the move, but a melancholy lay over the house as Dad was out and Mum and the kids were cleaning and packing boxes. Their last night was especially quiet, with a silent dinner table and each family member wrapped up in their own thoughts. After the dishes were cleared and packed, Dad suggested they read tonight. He sat back in his armchair with Joan and Sam on his lap for the last time in their old home.

“ _But when day came, with a sprinkle of rain, and he looked about him and saw on every side unknown woods, wild heaths, and blue mountains, he thought how large and strange the world was and felt frightened and small_ …” Dad trailed off as the passage washed over them all and silent tears began to fall. He held his children tight. Once they had recovered, he closed the book.

“I suppose that’s enough for tonight.”

There were no protests and pleas for more, just soft sniffles.

“You know,” Dad said, clearing his throat. “I believe the author, C.S. Lewis, lives in Oxford.”

So the Thursday family packed up their lives to start again in Oxford. One of the first things they did was implement reading together before Joan and Sam went to bed—a bit of routine and comfort amidst all the changes they were adjusting to. Eventually, the family worked through all the Narnia books and Sam, now reading confidently on his own, got everyone to read _The Hobbit_ by C.S. Lewis’s Oxford associate J.R.R. Tolkien. Later in his teens, he barreled through _The Lord of the Rings_ , a series Joan enjoyed as well. By this time, they no longer did ‘read-alouds,’ as they called them, but it wasn’t unusual for the family to spend a quiet evening together in the living room, each in their own books.

As Joan got older, life got busy and she had less time to sit down with a long book. While she ultimately strayed from the fantasy she preferred when she was young, she never lost the enjoyment of reading. One day she ruefully observed that she had become like her old favorite character Susan Pevensie, as she put aside the fairy tales of her childhood and was more interested in “nylons and lipstick and invitations,” though Joan never thought that made her shallow. She grew up, and no longer had a need for fairy tales.

***

As a child, Joan thought moving was the hardest time in her life. It was nothing compared with sitting beside her father in the hospital as he flitted in and out of consciousness after being shot. _Shot_. Her dad. Of course there was always the possibility of danger with him in the police, but he always seemed sort of invulnerable.

It was back to the silent waiting and worrying. Her mum spent endless hours at her husband’s side, holding his hand and speaking softly to him. Joan and Sam picked up their mother’s usual coping method of keeping busy, and slipped into the collaboration that naturally put aside their bickering when things were serious. Between home and the hospital, they tried to keep things in order as they kept up their vigil.

After seeing her mother growing more and more weary with little rest in the uncomfortable chair beside Dad’s bed, Joan gently suggested that she go home for a while to eat and rest; she would stay with Dad. Mum reluctantly agreed, and after giving Joan a tight hug, left her alone with her unconscious father.

“Hi Dad.” Joan watched his face. He looked like he could just be asleep, but she knew that beneath his peaceful appearance, his body was fighting a great battle. Joan determinedly wiped away a stray tear and cleared her throat. “I brought something for you. Thought you might like it. Make the time pass a bit.” She sat in the chair her mother had just left and pulled a book out of her purse. “Just like when you used to read to me as a kid. Though now it’s me reading to you.” Joan pursed her lips, took a deep breath, and opened the front cover. 

“ _Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy_ …”

**Author's Note:**

> Quotes taken from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and Prince Caspian by C.S. Lewis


End file.
